Splinch
by skyskysparkles
Summary: In which Hermione has a nightmare


Hermione's body jerked beneath the sheets before she heaved upright in the bed. It was uncomfortably warm in their room and the sheets felt like a boa constrictor, wrapping around her in a suffocating hold. Her head spun as she managed to get her bearings.

_I'm in my room. Ron is next to me. It has been three years. I am safe. Harry is alive. Everyone is alright. _She chanted in her head as she tried to calm her racing heart.

Ron was asleep peacefully beside her, showing no sign of noticing her distress in his sleep-ridden state. Thick, ginger eyelashes fanned across his cheeks as he slept. His mouth hung wide open, allowing for a stream of drool to escape from the side of his mouth. It was a rather unflattering look for him, but Hermione found it more humorous than anything- even in her frightened state.

_Inhale. Exhale. _

Ron turned so he was lying on his stomach, with one arm thrown over the top of Hermione's hips. She picked up her hand and ran it through his hair gently. It was scented like it did when Slughorn had them smell Amortentia in his classroom in Sixth Year. Hermione remembers what Amortentia smelled like to her- freshly mown grass, toothpaste and she stopped herself before she said Ron. But it did. Smell like Ron, that is. She had thought that there was no way at the time that he liked her, so she kept her mouth shut.

_Inhale. Exhale. _

There was nowhere else she would rather be in the world than right here next to him. Sure, it took them almost dying a few times for them to realise exactly how much they meant to each other, but she truly did feel like she needed him to a degree that almost scared her. And sometimes she didn't feel pretty enough for him or didn't feel like she was just enough at all for him, but he had a way of making her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world without even trying.

Her heart was still racing, and even as she tried to keep herself calm, she felt herself slipping into hysteria again. She felt like they were on the run again, in their small tent, rationing their food and having to second guess every move that they made in fear of losing one of the trio.

Without even needing to stand before one, Hermione knew her boggart had changed from Professor McGonagall telling her she had failed all of her exams to Ron, lying dead on the floor.

She could picture it from her nightmare now- Ron, lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Cuts all over his arms from splinching, blood still oozing from them. Groans of pain leaving his mouth as she scrambles to do something. _Anything. _But her magic bag of tricks is all empty. There is no dittany to save him. No potion, no wand, no nothing. Nightmare-Hermione presses down on the wounds, trying to stop the blood. But Ron only ceases moving. No more noise. No more Ron. And Hermione is helpless to do anything.

Hermione feels cold tears streaking her cheeks as she stares down at the man who has captured her heart and soul.

"I love you so much, Ronald Weasley." She whispered as not to wake him up.

When he had nightmares, she was always there to remind him that the war is over, that they're safe. And despite being able to reassure him of that, it never sinks into her own skull that she is allowed to sleep without feeling guilty. She is allowed to sleep and not worry about having to wake up and move because someone wants them dead. She is allowed to sleep and not have to worry constantly about everything around her that is completely out of her control.

Hermione sniffled, thinking about exactly how tired she was of trying to escape her own mind that was forcing her to keep thinking about all the atrocities she had to see.

Harry, her best friend, dead in the arms of Hagrid.

Sirius falling through the veil.

Tonk's dead body on the floor of the Great Hall.

Ron, again, in their first year being beaten in a giant game of Wizard Chess.

"Hermione?" Ron whispered, his eyes blinking open. Hermione quickly wipes away her tears with the sleeves of Ron's shirt.

"Yeah?" She replied, trying to conceal the clump in her throat.

Ron quickly sat up and reached for her face with his hands. "Nightmare?" His thumbs brush away the remaining tears before he slid his hands behind her neck to bring her into a hug. She nodded into his neck. There were a few things she could do, and in this state lying to her love was not one of them.

He brought his lips to her temple. "We're all alright, 'Mione." He said, shuffling the two of them around until they were both under the covers and she was lying across his chest.

One of her hands reached up to clutch his bicep, riddled with scars from when he actually splinched coming out of the Ministry with Harry and herself. She brought her own lips to it, and kissed all along the scar. Ron knew what the nightmare was about then. She had them frequently.

It had taken her a while to admit that she was having nightmares, and then another few rounds of getting them before she could admit to him what they were.

"Y'know I get them of you, too. When we were at Malfoy Manor," He said to her. "I kept trying to get to you, but there wasn't a way out. Bloody torture that was, listening to you scream and knowing that there was nothing that I could do to stop it from happening."

She felt warm and utterly safe in his arms, though that didn't stop her eyes from darting to their door every few seconds.

"It's all over, you can relax now." His hand trailed up and down her spine, his fingers leaving a trail of heat in their wake. It wasn't long before her eyes got heavy again, and she let herself close them. "We're all safe, I'm here. You can sleep."

In a strange way, it felt like he was relieving her of her turn taking guard of the tent. But the tent was now their flat and he was likely to fall back asleep after she had. And so she allowed herself to do just that- sleep.

_I do not own any characters or the HP series._


End file.
